


Service

by secretbraintwin



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Boot Worship, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Groveling, Hair removal, Hate Sex, Humiliation, M/M, Prison, Prostitution, Shaving, Strip Search, not full non-con but just to be on the safe side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 22:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10953780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretbraintwin/pseuds/secretbraintwin
Summary: My kinkmeme fill for this prompt:"I want to see Servis offering people sex so he can gain some benefits. Maybe he slept with some venatori to get his job in the first place. Or he seduces Inquisition guard so he will be treated better in jail. Or maybe he even offers himself to Inquisitor's pleasure, so his life will be spared. He feels highly humiliated by doing it but do it anyway. Any kinks (especially ones that imply humiliation) would be great with me. Just no non-con: everything that Servis does, he does willingly, even if he hates it."After Servis' capture, Lavellan orders him imprisoned indefinitely. He uses sex to try and change his mind.





	Service

"I'm sorry," Josephine raised an eyebrow at the chained mage. Servis was a silver-tongued creature, and Lavellan believed him when he said he had no loyalty to Corypheus. No, he was a snake, loyal only to his own best interests. "Are you attempting to bargain with us?"

"Bargain? I plead. I throw myself at your mercy! I also have many friends in Tevinter--"

Lavellan stopped him with a wave of a hand. The glowing one was particularly good at having that effect, he'd found, "You think I'm an idiot, shem? I'm not letting you contact anyone from Tevinter. I don't trust you as far as I could throw you. Which is fairly far, but not _quite_ overseas."

"Then what is it you want from me? You let me live, had me taken all the way back here. There must be something, your worship. Anything," he persuaded.

"Anything?" an idea crept into his mind and he steepled his fingers. "Guards, why is the prisoner still wearing the robes I defeated him in? Far too rich of clothing for a captive, right? Besides, this man fought against me. Not for very long, but still. Strip search him for weapons."

Not wanting to undo his chains, they hacked off his clothes, instead. Oh, he was enjoying the way he flushed and squirmed, but bit back his protests. How many slaves did this man own back in Tevinter, he wondered. How many times had he taken a young elf to his bed, or sold a child from his mother's arms? 

The fact that he wasn't utterly repulsive for a human also helped. A bit older than himself, based on the graying of his hair. But traipsing around the desert had made him lean, at least. 

"Throw him in the prison," he ordered, just before the guards reached his smallclothes. Lavellan leaned back with a wicked smile. "I may question him later."

"Imprisonment?" his eyes darted around wildly, like a rat in a cage. He enjoyed the growing panic in his voice as he was dragged away. "For how long? Inquisitor!"

Let the rat stew for now. 

He might end up having a use for him, but he would wait until they were gone from prying eyes and ears to make his proposal.

~o~O~o~

Lavellan took his sweet time making his way down to the cells. He was the Inquisitor, after all. He had meetings with his advisers, missions to discuss with Krem, weapons and armor to craft and augment for his companions, and sparring with Cassandra. 

Around nightfall, he sauntered down to Servis' holding cell. The prisoner had been given rags to cover his nakedness, but was still visibly shivering, curled in on himself. Northerners and their love of heat.

He cleared his throat, and the human jumped, scampering over to the bars, "Inquisitor! Just the man I wanted to see. You, in your wisdom, sentenced me to imprisonment. But neglected to mention for how long, exactly?"

"Indefinitely."

"But, I--"

"Should be grateful that I did not pin you with a note explaining how you stole from Corypheus and mailed you to him with a bow on top," he interrupted. "Which I'm still somewhat tempted to do."

Servis paled, and wisely sunk to his knees, "Maker's mercy, you wouldn't really do that, would you? I--I said I'd do anything. To earn your trust. My freedom. I could become your agent. And you seemed...interested in me, did you not?" 

Ah, so he'd caught on to that.

"Interested in what, exactly?" he prompted. He wanted to hear him say it. 

"Forgive me for presuming, but I saw how you looked at me when I was...searched. You could have me," he swallowed hard. "Willingly."

Lavellan reached through the bars to touch his face, and the man flinched. He laughed, "You offer yourself as a whore, shem, and yet shy away from the slightest touch?"

"Not from your touch, your worship. From your hand."

"It won't hurt you, unless I want it to," he held out his palm. "Kiss it."

His face scrunched with hate, but he slowly lowered his lips down to it, pulling back sharply at the barest brush. 

"Did it hurt?"

He shook his head, "It feels...odd. Pins and needles, but not really pain."

"Good. Then you won't pull away from me again, will you?"

"No, your worship."

"Now my boots."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Kiss the tops of my boots, shem," he ordered. "Do not make me repeat myself again, or you'll have to kiss the bottoms."

Servis glared up at him, before getting down onto his hands and kissing the steel toes. 

He unlocked the door, and circled around the kneeling man, "I am not rapist scum, unlike your kind. There will be no forcing, no retribution if you choose not to warm my bed. You will be left alone in your cell whenever you wish. You are not a slave, but a whore. Furthermore, I will not lead you on--I make no promises towards earning your freedom. I offer only creature comforts in exchange for your body."

The man hesitated, "Comforts?"

"Your basic needs will always be provided as prisoner. But I can get you books, finer foods, wine... Is that agreeable?"

"Yes, your worship," he said, with a too-sweet smile. The snake thought he could still convince him. Well, let him delude himself, then. No skin off his back. 

Lavellan yanked him up by the chains, "Follow. Quietly, if your tongue can stop wagging for half a moment."

~o~O~o~

The second they were within his quarters, he shoved the man to his knees.

"You are not allowed to stand in here, unless I expressly order it," shem liked to lord their height over him. As if size made them better. Well, his shield could stand up to a blow from Bull, so fuck 'em. "Don't speak unless spoken to. And, if you want to go back to your cell, snap your fingers. Understand?"

"Of course. Any other rules, your worship?" His voice dripped of honey and false respect.

He tilted his head, considering, "Perhaps. But first, I want to know about your experience. An Altus I know claims that relations with the same sex is looked down on there?"

"Your information is accurate. I...have never...but this is the south, and one must do as the southerners do," disgust was souring the honey, now, and Lavellan smiled. This was more to his taste.

"There is a bathing chamber to your left. Go clean yourself for my inspection--you may be a rat but I'd rather you not smell like one for this. Shave, too."

Humans and their disgusting body hair... sure, he was likely a blood mage, and not to be trusted with a blade, but he was confident enough in his templar abilities to take the risk. He killed blood mages as his morning warm-up.

Lavellan followed the crawling man into the room, arms crossed over his chest as he settled against the tiled wall.

He filled the tub before stripping down, he noted.

"Trying to delay the inevitable?"

Servis glared, before schooling his expression and quickly disrobing. He hesitated before he reached his smalls, but dropped them just the same.

He was average, and bigger than himself even, but Lavellan did not miss a chance to humiliate his prisoner, laughing, "And here I thought humans were supposed to be large! Guess your ass and mouth are going to be the only things of any use to me."

A fleeting frown was his only answer before the mage hurried into the tub. Oh, how he enjoyed getting that polite mask to break for him.

He started with the shaving kit, first but stopped at his face.

"No. I want you smooth everywhere below your nose," he ordered.

"Maker, even my--"

"Pathetic manhood? Especially there. I suggest you do your balls carefully. Wouldn't want to cut yourself."

"Stop pouting," he swaggered over to the tub, cupping the human's chin from behind. Nice and smooth, how he liked it. "You can start with your chest, for now. Be thankful I'm so generous. Aren't I, rat?"

"Yes, very generous, your worship," the man muttered, in the same matter one might say go fuck a jar of bees.

It was a long and humiliating process, he made sure of that. For every region he shaved, Lavellan would run his hands over him thoroughly before he was allowed to move on, sometimes making him redo an area here or there that was not up to his standards. Chest. Arms. Legs. Back wasn't necessary, lucky him. Then, finally, groin. 

He felt around the base of his cock, teasing, before moving to fondle his balls. Servis' hand shot up, thumb and middle finger pressed together as if he might snap, but then he lowered it with a defeated sigh. 

Lavellan frowned, backing off. He enjoyed pushing limits. But the prisoner was weak, and he wasn't keen on having a grown man break down and cry in his bathing chambers. 

"You need a minute?"

"Is that allowed?" the human looked back at him, doubtful.

"New rule: snap once if you want to pause, snap if twice if you want to quit," Lavellan took the razor with him as he turned away. He left it unsaid that he wouldn't tolerate abuse of this rule. "Clean up on your own. Come out when you're ready."

He sat down at his desk, and began to work as he waited. Lavellan was not typically a patient man, but this was not a typical situation. 

The human crawled out after a few moments, without a towel despite clearly having used one, and knelt at his feet. How much better Servis looked clean and smooth. He grinned in appreciation, "Ready to keep going?"

"I promised you my body, your worship. Willingly."

"Speaking of worship..." he pushed back his chair, and the mage took the hint to settle between his legs. Lavellan shoved his head down. "When you're on your knees before me, I expect you to nuzzle me, until I say to continue."

He could see the tension in his shoulders, but Servis obeyed, rubbing his face into his crotch. Fuck, that was good. 

"Continue."

Fingers accustomed to the bizarrely complicated trappings of Tevinter made quick work belt, his fly. 

But he hesitated at his smalls--surprise, surprise. 

"Go on," he smirked, pulling the fabric down beneath his balls. Lavellan held the 'Vint by the back of his neck as he traced his cock over his face, smearing precum. "It won't bite. Open up." 

Servis glared daggers, but parted his lips. 

"Stick your tongue out." 

The human begrudgingly obeyed, gagging as Lavellan rubbed the head over the tip of his tongue. 

"Don't worry, you're gonna learn to love the taste, soon. Now, pay attention. Next time, I'll expect you to do the work," he said, grasping his chin to pull his mouth open wider. Lavellan ran his length down that warm, wet (surprisingly not forked) tongue. "Close your mouth, now, and cover your teeth with your lips. Yeah, just like that..." he noticed the man's eyes screwed shut, and tsked. "Look at me. Always look at me."

If before he'd been glaring daggers, now he was glaring swords. 

He was fucked up for finding that hot, wasn't he? 

Gripping his head with both hands, he thrust in hard and deep. He'd been craving this for hours, been hard since the 'Vint had stripped down, and whatever restraint he'd practiced before had snapped. Servis' throat seized, and he tried to pull back, but that just egged him on. If he truly wanted to stop, he knew the rules, he was just being spoiled. 

"Swallow it," he growled as his balls drew up, ready to finish. "By the Dread Wolf, you'd better fucking swallow it all."

He came with a groan, spurt after spurt filling up the human's mouth, and grinning at the disgust in his eyes as he watched him choke it down.

Lavellan pulled out his softening cock and covered himself, relaxing back with a sigh, "Good boy."

"Now," he said after a moment. "As for your reward..."

The human's head perked up like a dog hearing its name. 

"How about a drink, hmm? Go pick out something and fetch, shem," he gestured to a shelf with a large number of bottles on it. He was a bit of a collector, actually. 

Obediently, the mage crawled over, pondered the selection for a moment, and returned with one, along with two glasses. Amusing to think he would be allowed to drink from a glass in here when he wasn't allowed to stand. 

"Ah, the Sun Blonde. Should have expected that, for a 'Vint," he said, popping the cork. Cupping his unmarked hand, he poured some into it. "Drink."

He cringed back, and Lavellan laughed, "You drank come straight from my prick, but this you won't do?"

His shoulders slumping in acquiescence, the mage licked up what remained of the alcohol from his hand, clearly trying to avoid touching his skin as much as possible. 

Trying to preserve his dignity? Well, they couldn't have that, could they?

"Since you decided to be a little fuck about your reward, perfectly good liquor got on my floor. Lick that up for me, too."

Servis sighed miserably, "Yes, your worship."

He smirked as that clever tongue was put to better use, and held out his cupped hand again, "This time, don't let it go to waste, or you'll have to drink it from the floor again."

Lavellan poured more into his hand, and the shem didn't dare hesitate. His tongue lapped without restraint from his hand, and then he gazed up at him, wary. 

"Did you enjoy your reward, shem?"

"Inquisitor, your generosity is much appreciated. But I beseech you, let me be of real service to you. I have connections, I can smuggle. And I have done all that you've asked, does that not prove that I'm worthy of trust?"

"Does it now?" he stood and strode over to the pile of rags Servis had worn, plucking out a bauble that had previously been on his shelf. A tacky gift from Ser who-gives-a-fuck. He didn't even like the thing, but the look on the human's face was priceless. "Let me guess, plan B was bribing a guard to let you go?"

The rat stuttered out the beginning of an excuse, but he silenced him with a withering look. 

"Oh, Servis," he stroked his cheek, the light from the mark ghosting over his skin, making the shemlen shudder. "You and I have a lot more fun ahead of us."


End file.
